


Of Templars and a Hunchback

by penninghistory



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi, added spice to a disney movie, also jim holden deserved better, lots of fighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penninghistory/pseuds/penninghistory
Summary: Master Templar Abagail Hornigold arrives in the city of Paris, France, on the 26th of January to check on the progress of supposed Templar Adept, Quasimodo, the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Upon finding that his sponsor, a cruel man named Claude Frollo, hadn't been training him as promised, the young woman takes the Hunchback under her wing to train him herself. But, there's a darkness running through the streets. With the life of her new Adept, friends, and even herself on the line, will she be able to withstand the growing tension in the streets to escape back to London?
Relationships: Abagail Hornigold & Jim Holden, Abagail Hornigold (OC) & Quasimodo, Esmeralda & Quasimodo (Disney)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

“Holden, where are you?” The woman asked, stepping outside of her carriage, a playful smile curled onto her lips. She wore a dress of a light blue, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. Both had become a little disheveled from the ride into Paris, but she cared little. “Holden, I’ve been looking for my tricorn everywhere have you-” She paused as she neared the front of the carriage, looking up at a tanned man who was pretending to be asleep. He wore simple workman’s clothes, leather shoes, and on his head rested a small blue tricorn hat. Suppressing a laugh, the woman silently climbed up to the driver’s seat and stole the hat back, laughing as she lightly jumped onto the ground and stuck her tongue out at the startled looking man.   
“You like to joke, do you, Master Holden?” The woman asked, watching as the man returned the smile.   
“No, Miss, none at all.”   
“Jim Holden if I have to tell you one more time to call me Abby, I’m going to send you to America without your tricorn!”   
Jim managed a fake offended look, one hand on his chest. “Whatever shall I do without my hat, Abby,” he joked, pausing when they heard another carriage in the distance.   
Abby straightened, adjusting her tricorn on her head, suddenly tense and business-like. “No doubt that will be Master Frollo. I wish Reginald could be here sooner. But he won’t be here until before the Festival.”  
“Festival, ma’am?” Holden asked, matching her deminer.   
“Festival of Fools. Reginald tries to plan his visits to Paris around this time because he seems to like this festival, but this year...this year is more business than anything.”   
Holden nodded, then glanced down the street where a carriage, decorated like a church with crosses carved into the walls as little windows came to a stop nearby. He exchanged a greeting with the driver as the door opened to reveal an older man, his short hair silver-gray in color with pieces curled next to his eyes. His nose was hawk-like, and there was something about his eyes, the way he stood, that made Abby uneasy.   
“Miss Hornigold,” Frollo said, by way of greeting, and she forced herself not to gag when he pressed a light kiss to her knuckles.  
“Please, call me Abagail,” she said and made a small bow. “Grand Master Birch sent me ahead to check on your ward. Quasimodo, was it? We had received word at the Chateau that you wanted to make him an adept. I’m merely here to check his progress.”   
She saw him tense slightly at her statement and glanced over her shoulder at Holden, who had taken on the look of someone who was not interested in anything going on in front of him. “Of course, Abagail,” Frollo said. “But you and your man must be tired from traveling. Let me show you to the Palace of Justice so you can rest before the Festival.”   
She nodded her assent, noting his barely hidden disgust at his mention of the Festival, then turned to enter her carriage. Holden shot her a confused look, and she shook her head. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, when the sun had risen to its highest point, cheers began to erupt from a crowd that had started to form in the town square. Abagail stepped out of the dark, cold building, feeling an invisible weight lift off of her. She adjusted her suit, a dark grey that felt more comfortable than her dress and placed her hat on her head.   
Glancing around, she saw that Holden was waiting for her near the carriage, leaned against one of the walls, and lightly sleeping. She shook her head as she walked towards him, lightly shaking him awake. “Jim,” she whispered. He startled slightly, then looked at her. “We’re to meet Reginald at the pavilion with Frollo. That is where we’ll sit. But one last thing.” She reached into her purse and grabbed a handful of extra coins and pressed it into his hand before he could argue. “Get yourself something. My treat.” She smiled and let herself into the carriage as the man hurriedly put the coins away and hoisted himself into the driver’s seat.   
They arrived at the pavilion as Frollo was getting out of his. Frollo gave Reginald a curt nod of greeting, and then glanced over as Holden helped Abagail out of the carriage. She smiled at him and stepped into the shade, smiling and nodding at the two men. Reginald, a man with short brown hair gave her a friendly smile while Frollo looked closed off as she took her seat in front of them.   
“Tell to me about this Quasimodo,” Reginald said, just loud enough so the three of them could hear each other. “You mentioned wanting to sponsor him for the Order?”   
The conversation paused briefly as a Romani man appeared behind Frollo, introducing a dancer. Abagail’s attention was drawn to the man, as he moved next to her, lightly pressing his hands into her shoulders saying, “See the mystery and romance!”   
She smiled, ignoring the confetti that had fallen onto her sleeves as the man moved away, full of infectious energy. Abagail glanced over at Reginald who simply nodded and turned to continue his conversation with Frollo as a lively tune started, filled with fanfare and joy as a woman began to dance, somewhat provocatively. Esmerelda danced to the sound of men from the crowd yelling and cheering as she moved.   
Frollo seemed to pause and looked up long enough to say, “Look at that disgusting display!”   
There was an answer of, “Yes sir!” from three directions, one of them from Abagail’s beat red features.   
The Romani woman moved to the edge of her stage and lightly jumped, landing on the edge of the pavilion and lightly sitting on Abagail’s lap. They exchanged a smile, while she wrapped a see-through starry scarf around her neck and moved away, back towards the stage.   
Abagail touched the fabric, feeling both Reginald and Frollo’s eyes on her as her cheeks burned red. She placed the scarf in her lap, held tightly in her hands while the Romani man from earlier jumped back onto the stage and introduced the next part of the festival. The King of Fools. Her mind wasn’t there, it was drifting through space, trying to understand why Esmerelda had singled her out, amongst the three people in the shade of the pavilion.   
Then the music stopped. Cries of, “Oh!” “He’s hideous!” rose through the crowd before a single man’s voice said, loud with wonder, “It’s the bell ringer from Notre Dame!”   
Abagail stiffened, then looked back at Frollo. “Bell ringer? Wasn’t he supposed to become your adept? Out of the bell tower?”   
Frollo scoffed and looked away. “He’s not fit to join the Order.”   
Abagail shot a look at Reginald, then said. “I disagree. He looks as though he could be a natural for the order.”   
“What do you mean?” Reginald asked, following his adopted daughter’s gaze as she accessed him.   
“Well, for one, he made himself one with the crowd rather quickly for someone with his disability. We never noticed him until he was brought on stage. Secondly, he seems so sweet and kind from what I’ve seen in Frollo’s letters if a little slow with his alphabet and writing. But that is something that can be taught. If Frollo is unwilling to sponsor him, I will. I’ll train him as well, Grand Master.”   
Reginald nodded, raising a hand to silence Frollo’d arguments and gestured for Abagail to follow him as Quasimodo was given a scepter to hold. “Since that matter is finished, we’ll take our leave of this festival. Set up proper care for Quasimodo’s belongings. Will you join us, Master Frollo?”   
Frollo, staring straight at the hunchback barely containing his anger. “Of course, Grand Master,” he said, stiffly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frollo confronts Abagail about the festival and moves to have guards placed outside her room. Abagail, startled, talks to Reginald about the strangeness of the move, and decides to go have a visit to Quasimodo to tell him the news.

It was dark outside. The hallways of the Palace of Justice seemed strangely heavier, as though there was a weight that pressed down onto those who stayed there. Abagail pulled her coat tighter around her body, shivering under it. It was cold, colder than it usually was this time of year.   
She nodded to a solider as she passed him, noting the Templar cross on his collar. While she didn’t recognize the man, she thought about the difference between her Adept and this man. There wasn’t a lot, she thought, that mad that man different from Quasimodo. Disability aside, that man had been able to train in the order, so, why was Quasimodo so unfit?   
She paused by the entrance, wondering if anyone would notice her slip outside for some fresh air. The bells on the top of the Cathedral had started to ring, their melody an almost sad reaction to the things she had heard.   
Tortured by the crowd, Holden had told her. He had gone back to the Festival in time to witness the fruit and various other food items start to be thrown. The lassos and rope they used to tie Quasimodo down while Frollo did nothing to stop them. Shaking her head, she opened one of the doors enough so she could go outside, making sure it shut quietly behind her. There were guards here as well, but they merely nodded to her as she passed, making no move to stop her from continuing further down the steps.   
Looking up, she took in the sight of Notre Dame, silhouetted against the dark sky, and wondered how anyone would place a man up there alone. Shaking her head to rid herself of the thought, she continued on her walk around the palace, trying to distract herself from the heaviness of the atmosphere, the chill that seemed to penetrate every nook and cranny of the tall building.   
The hands. The hands were the first thing she noticed. Lost in thought, she hadn’t heard the footsteps following her. If she had, she had paid them little mind. Spinning and breaking the hold of whoever was behind her she drew a dagger, only to be met with the angry face of Minister Frollo. “Frollo,” she said, anger rising in her voice, “you should know its impolite to sneak up on a woman like this.”   
“And you should remember that it is out of line for you to question my judgment,” the man said, taking a step towards her. She stood her ground, barely wavering as he did, not willing to be cowed by the man’s attempt to frighten her.   
“Out of line?” she asked, laughing slightly at the comment. “It would have been out of line if I were still an Adept. Below you in rank and skill. But I am not. Reginald trusts me for my input and if he saw fit that I should train Quasimodo, then I will.”   
Frollo scoffed, looking away.   
“Esmerelda was right. They did crown the wrong fool today. I’m surprised I didn’t see you on that stage, Master Frollo. It’s almost as though you would fit in with the people you claim to hate so much.”   
Frollo turned to face her angrily, his face turning red with it. Abagail knew she had scored a verbal point, but questioned the decision to keep talking as she was backed into the stone walls of the palace. Although she kept her expression blank, there was a fear rising in her chest. This man was starting to lose his head, she realized, and she jumped when he gripped her arms hard enough to leave bruises in the skin.   
“You are out of line to talk to me like that,” he said, tightening his grip so hard that it made her wince despite herself. “You see, Abagail, I know more about you than I’m sure Reginald does, and I’m sure you don’t want our enemies to find out your secret, would you?”   
“If you told the Assassins anything, Reginald would make sure I was the one who ended your life,” Abagail said, hissing as the man’s grip seemed to tighten more.   
“I’m sure it would be quite a show for you,” Frollo said, releasing her arms and turning away. “‘But, remember what I told you. Defy me again and it won’t just be me you’ll have to worry about.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

It was the next morning that Frollo took action. Abagail woke to the sound of soldiers talking outside of her door, as though they were guarding her. From what, she didn’t know, but it made her stomach clench uneasily. Getting out of bed and dressing quickly, deciding it might be a good idea to chose a dress rather than a suit, she pulled open her door. A man moved to block her path, and she glared at him. “Let me pass,” she said. “I need to speak to my father.”   
“Minister Frollo ordered us to not let you leave this room,” the man told her.   
“And yet the door remains unlocked, with two guards I don’t know or trust standing outside at all times. Does he think me a fool? I know what he plans. Let me pass. Now.”   
The man, looking startled by the anger in her tone, moved to the side, and she slipped past him moving at almost a jog to get back into the safety of a room, where she knew no one could harm her. She felt a strange sense of panic in her stomach. Frollo had made that move for a reason, but what reason was there to keep her locked away in a room, two men standing watch at all times. Would he attempt to do something, knowing his Grand Master was nearby?   
She shuddered, not wanting to think about the extent of Frollo’s mind, and knocked on the door to Reginald’s quarters, waiting for the Grand Master to assent to her entry before going inside.   
“What is going on?” she asked him. “There are guards posted at my door and it took all of my power to get them to let me leave.”   
Reginald looked up from a letter, a little startled. “Guards? What could you have done to get guards posted at your door?”   
Abagail shrugged, pacing slightly. “He confronted me last night about what happened at the festival. Told me he knew more about me than he ever let on from the beginning.” She looked at Reginald. “He told me he was willing to talk to the enemy about me if I tried to cross him again like I did at the festival.”   
“Well, that confirms one thing,” Reginald said, and Abagail tilted her head, confused.   
“Confirms what?”   
“I’ve received a letter today that was unsigned. It mentioned something about finding the Romani woman that seemed interested in you yesterday. Esmerelda, I believe her name was.” He looked at her for confirmation, and, upon receiving it, continued. “Apparently among her list of crimes was trying to turn you towards witchcraft of all things. I didn’t take it as fact until you mentioned the guards and your confrontation with Frollo last night.”   
He sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly.   
“There is a lot more going on than we thought,” Abagail told him. “Haytham made mention to me before he left for America that he thought Frollo might be a turncoat-”   
“But we have no proof until he makes a move against us.” Reginald reminded her. “Guards outside your door could be argued as a safety precaution. He sees your gender, not your abilities with your blades. Even then, if something had happened, it would have been your word against the minister’s on his own turf…”   
Abagail nodded, looking away. “I understand that, Reginald. But are you going to let someone get hurt because you’re not willing to do anything?”   
Reginald shook his head, gesturing for her to leave. “Have your man take a look around. Go visit your Adept and tell him the news. I’ll have a discussion with Frollo about his behavior and have him remove the guards from your doorway. But, Abagail...be careful.”   
“You know me, Grand Master,” Abagail said, smiling at him from the doorway, “I’m always careful.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abagail meets with Quasimodo and is soon ambushed by soldiers near the cathedral. Some Violence in this chapter

The walk to Notre Dame seemed to go slowly, each step taking her farther away, rather than towards the tall cathedral. She had changed quickly before she had left, wearing a dress of light grey with a scarf of white wrapped loosely around her head. In her hand, she held a basket, and she made three stops to get food: some cold roasted beef, some bread and cheese, and a small bottle of wine. These, she covered with a cloth and continued on her journey, taking care to not arouse the suspicions of any guards that moved among the populace.   
It was easy to see how distracted they were. With the orders that the Romani woman be found, they were intent on finding her, distracted from the real danger beside them as they passed by.   
Shaking her head, she pulled open the door of the cathedral, nodding to the Bishop that lit candles near the entrance. “Minster Frollo asked me to check on Quasimodo,” she told the man quietly, the lie slipping easily from her mouth. “Where is a door that can lead up to the bell towers?”   
The Bishop, his white hair receding over his head, smiled kindly at her, and for a moment, she felt guilty about lying to the old man. Pushing the feeling aside, she nodded her thanks as he gestured in the direction of an open doorway with a “God be with you.”   
She shook her head as she walked away, thinking about how God hadn’t been with her so far, pausing when all she could see were stair below her to take deep breaths, trying to swallow her panic before it attacked her. She could still feel the heat of flames and the cutting edge of a sword from all those years ago. At night, the haunted dreams of her sister being stolen, her first adoptive father dying in front of her raced through her mind, leaving her trapped inside her mind. Holding onto the wall with her free hand, she felt the rough texture of the stone and unwrapped her hair so that she could feel unchoked.   
After a moment of counting to twenty and feeling the stone beneath her hand, she straightened and continued on her way upwards, listening to the bells begin to chime. At the top of the staircase, she looked around, then moved to walk up a set of wooden stairs leading to a table covered with tiny figurines, houses, and a smaller version of Notre Dame herself. She smiled and picked up a carving of a girl holding a tambourine high in the air. “You did good work on these Quasimodo,” she said, loud enough that it echoed around the bells. Setting the basket down on a low table nearby, she moved to grab two plates and cups and set the table.   
“You don’t have to be afraid of showing yourself,” she chided, gently, opening the wine and pouring it into the cups. “I’m hoping I can be your friend...it seems pretty lonely up here, even with all this space.”   
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a movement but stayed calm. “You’re pretty good at staying hidden,” a curtain moved to her left, the muffled sound of footsteps following it. “But I could teach you how to be better at it.”   
She turned quickly and held out a hand in a welcoming gesture as Quasimodo stepped out of hiding behind her. “And I can show you how to notice where any potential threat is going to go.”   
She smiled at his confused expression. “You’re Quasimodo, right?” she asked, and, when he nodded, looking even more confused by the lightness of her tone, she continued. “I’m Abagail Hornigold, but my friends tend to call me Abby more often than not. I brought lunch if you’re hungry.”   
She glanced at the table and noticed Quasimodo’s almost surprised look. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve been setting tables since I was seven. Would you like some food?”   
The man nodded, and they both sat down, sitting in slightly uncomfortable silence as Abagail served the food. It was broken by the bell ringer.   
“Why are you here, Miss Hornigold?” he asked, quietly.   
“Please, call me Abby. And consider me someone to vent too. Especially about Minister Frollo.”   
Quasi made eye contact with her, looking surprised, “You know him?”   
“Only barely. He’s no friend of mine. Anything you tell me, I’ll keep between you and me, if not written down in a journal. As it happens, I’ve been looking for someone to train. To keep under my wing so to speak. I’ve chosen you for that position.” She allowed him to process the news, a stunned silence coming from him.   
“Why...Why me?” he asked, and she shrugged.   
“Well, for one, you know how to melt into a crowd. When I was at the festival, I never noticed you until you were pulled onto that stage. It was an incredible feat that I’ve rarely seen people do untrained. Secondly, the way you moved around in here, while I could hear where you were going, you always seemed to keep me in your line of sight. That’s a great start-”   
“My master would never let me join you.”   
Abagail looked startled. “Your master, Quasimodo? Who are you talking about?”   
“Frollo,” Quasimodo said, deflated. Abby took a sip of wine to hide the fact she wanted to puke, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Frollo had been making this man call him Master. “He raised me, you know.”   
Abagail shook her head and gestured for Quasimodo to eat. “Let me tell you my story, and then tell me if this is raising you, ok?” When he nodded, she took a deep breath and started her tale.   
“When I was a child, my mother died of a sickness, and my father in a shipwreck off the coast of an island far away from here. My father’s friend, the father of my half brother and sister, took me in that day and raised me as though I was one of his own. I was taught everything I needed to know...and then one night before my brother Haytham turned 10, masked men attacked our home and burned it to cinders. My adoptive father died in that attack, but a man named Reginald Birch took both my brother and me under his wings. He made sure we were comfortable, had a roof over our heads, but most importantly, he was by our side.” She paused and reached over to hold one of the hands of the man in front of him. “And while this is a nice place to be, someone who was raising you would have been by your side. Not making you call him Master, a title, quite frankly, he doesn’t deserve. You deserve better than that, Quasi. Will you let me show you that?”   
Quasi hesitated, then nodded slowly.   
“Thank you. Keep this, ok? Gather what you can, and I’ll come to collect you in three days’ time, ok? That’s when we’ll go to the Chateau a half days ride from here.”   
She stood and walked towards the stairwell. “Remember, keep anything you want to keep, ok? I’m sure we can bring the majority of it.”   
Quasimodo nodded, and she walked down the staircase, smiling to herself as she did so. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sunlight was bright after the dim light of the cathedral. Something was off about the air. It was too silent, too still. She loosened a sword that was hidden in a fold of her dress and started to move towards the Palace of Justice. She listened carefully, trying to drown out the normal day-to-day talk of the people at market stalls and those who called out their wares. Children laughed and ran past her, but she paid no mind, staying alert to the sound of armored footsteps following her.   
Turning down an alley, she drew her sword as a man appeared in front of her, two more at his side. Her way out was blocked by four more men, and she turned to eye both groups carefully. After a long moment of tense silence, she teased, “So, did you come here to stare or to fight?”   
As she taunted her enemies, she launched her attack on the group of three men. She swung backhand and forehands in quick succession, forcing one man back and into the wall, knocking him out before turning to the next two men. They fell quickly, one man bleeding from a wound in his neck, the other knocked out next to the first man.   
Breathing heavily, she turned to face a two-man attack, moving as fast as she could to block and parry all of their strokes and stabs. She was slowing down though, every movement becoming slower and slower.   
The men, seeing that she was becoming weaker, smiled to each other and slowed down their strokes, not seeing her smile to herself and suddenly speed up, stabbing one through his chest before yanking her blade out and swiping it against the neck of the second man before jumping over them and attacking their friends.   
Surprised, they backed off, and it took only a few more strikes for them to turn and retreat. She let them go, blood staining her dress in several places, both hers and her attackers. She moved away from the scene of the battle, gasping for air and hissing in pain. 

~~~~~~~  
Reginald had come out of the palace to get air and move around when he saw his daughter limping towards him. “Abagail!” He yelled, worry tightening his airway. He hurried and caught her as she fell, exhausted and hurt.   
“Frollo’s men,” she winced. “In the alley.”   
A small hand joined Reginald’s in helping hold Abagail up. When he looked up, he saw Esmerelda. “Let me take her to a place that can help,” she said. “We can keep her safe and hidden.”   
Reginald nodded, allowing Esmerelda and two other Romani men to help Abagail up and away, watching as they disappearing into the crowd.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reginald and Jim's scheme to keep Abagail safe is spoiled by a hidden man, Abagail reveals her secret and Frollo knows where she is hiding

“How could you have just lost her?” Reginald was angry, although it was more of a hidden act than anything. “You told me the guards that you placed at her door were there to protect her, and yet she’s gone into the wind!”   
Frollo stood, staring into the burning fire, tense with anger of his own. “There was a skirmish near Notre Dame. I lost three men to whoever was fighting them. Templar men,” he added the last statement with heavy stress. “And yet, Grand Master, you’re here angry because you lost one person!”   
Reginald reacted as though he had been struck. He took a drink of wine, trying to calm his nerves. Trying to not play his hand too soon. “You are correct, Master Frollo. I’m correct in assuming the families have been told? Set up help for the coming months?”   
Frollo turned to face the Grand Master. “They will be by the end of the week,” he said, and Reginald nodded, setting his cup down and turning to leave.   
“Make sure they are,” he said and left the room. He stopped next to Jim Holden, looking at the man. “Make sure no one finds her. If Frollo is about to do what I think he is, then she’s in danger.”   
“Of course, sir,” Holden replied, bowing slightly and the two separated.   
In the shadows of a separate corridor, unfriendly eyes watched them, listening to their conversation. As the two men left, he slipped into the room Frollo was in.   
He had to report the Sage was still alive.

~~~~~~~~~~

Abagail woke to the feeling of something furry laying on her chest. She groaned, feeling the object move as she blinked her eyes open and looked into the eyes of a curious goat. She froze, watching the animal stare at her before licking up her cheek and running to go find someone.   
She slowly sat up, wincing at a sharp pain in her side, and looked over as a dark-haired Romani woman appeared in her line of sight, kneeling down in front of her. “I’m happy to see you’re awake,” she said softly, feeling Abagail’s forehead to check for any sign of a fever. “You’ve been out for a while now.”   
“Where am I?” Abagail asked, her throat dry. “Why did you help me?”   
“Well, you’re in the Court of Miracles, and I helped you because you’re helping a mutual friend.”   
“You mean Quasi, right?” Abagail asked, gratefully accepting a mug of tea from Esmerelda. The other woman nodded and sat down nearby.   
“Will you answer me a question?” Esmerelda asked, leaning back against a wooden wall.   
“Depends on the question, I suppose,” Abagail asked, watching her carefully. “Why?”   
“Clopin noticed your eyes when we were first bringing you here before you passed out. He said that they were two different colors. Why?”   
Abagail looked down at her tea, thinking about how to answer that question. “The story behind that is extremely complicated, even for me at the best of times. I’m...I’m basically the reincarnated version of an older god, one that came before the one the Bishops and priests in Notre Dame pray too. They call me a Sage, and as far as I’m aware I’m the only one with knowledge of something hidden here, something as old as me.”   
“So, you’re telling me that you are a reincarnated god, with memories that could rival the god in Notre Dame, and yet you’re helping a bell ringer who lives in that same cathedral. Why?”   
“Because I know what it’s like to be used for my supposed disability. My eyes were seen as a curse from the devil when I was born. My mother burned for giving birth to me. I just thought if I could save him the pain of having to deal with it longer that I would be repaying the debt I owe my mother…”   
Abagail looked away, sipping on her tea. “Frollo knows that I am a Sage, as does my adopted father. But if he finds me here, he will hurt you all.”   
Esmerelda watched her carefully. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been in danger. Besides, I think Djali would be mad if you left so soon.”   
Abagail looked at the goat who was laying next to her, his head on her lap. “You’re right. Ok, I’ll stay, but I want to be able to walk around. “ 

~~~~~~~~

Reginald was sitting in his quarters reading a letter that he had received from America when there was a knock on the door. He looked up, and called, “Come in!”   
When the door opened, Frollo stood in the doorway, a sick smile on his features. “Where is Abagail?” he asked the Grand Master, entering the room and closing the door.   
“I don’t know where she is,” Reginald asked, raising an eyebrow. “We had this conversation earlier this morning.”   
“Yes, I remember that conversation, Grand Master, but apparently one of your group knows more than he let on.”   
At that, the door reopened, and Jim Holden fell inside, bloody and bruised.   
“You see, I do find it interesting that you had a Sage in your care this whole time and never said a word of it to anyone. I was shocked to find out that this man was protecting the one person on the planet that can save it from its doom.”   
Jim glared defiantly up at Frollo, then exchanged a worried look with Reginald. “You’re still no closer to finding her,” he coughed. “Doubt you could find her.”   
Frollo looked at the man and then back at Reginald who was hiding his anger and fear well. “I will, and when I do, there will be a bonfire in the square just for her.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, so you’re telling me that palm reading is basically just reading the lines on someone’s palm like a book?” Abagail asked Esmerelda as they walked, Djali following close behind them.   
“In easy terms, yes,” Esmerelda answered. “Think of it like reading your symbols. Each line is another word, another characteristic to describe a person.”   
“Which is why you were able to tell I was an old soul,” Abagail said, and the other woman nodded. The Sage stopped and looked around at the market place type space and then back at her new friend. “It’s such a shame Frollo would see this destroyed. This place has an energy all it’s own. It reminds me of the Feast of Fools all over again.”   
Esmerelda nodded taking a look around.   
“But I have to ask you, Esmerelda, why did you pick me? There were two men in that pavilion, and yet you chose me.”   
“You seemed different from them in a way I couldn’t describe. And I guess I can say my gut was right on that one.”   
“Oh, you better believe it.” The women laughed together, then turned as someone came running to them, pausing to look at Abagail.   
“Someone...Someone with a ring like yours is looking for you. He says that Frollo is looking for you and knows where you might be hiding.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arno Dorian comes to warn Abagail about Frollo, a secret weapon, and Aita makes an appearance. All looks lost, but will Abagail, Quasimodo, and Esmerelda come out on top?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the delay on this chapter! There is a mention of a drug in this chapter, but no more than that. The drug the Frollo has is a drug that can force any Sage to have Aita, the Isu scientist that they are reincarnated from, come forward. While if Abby does die, Aita will be able to return into a new person, this gives Frollo a seemingly good reason to exact revenge for Abagail's actions at the Feast of Fools.

“Someone...Someone with a ring like yours is looking for you. He says that Frollo is looking for you and knows where you might be hiding.”  
*********  
Abby and Esmerelda rushed towards one of the entrances of the Court of Miracles, where a man sat, loosely bound by a rope at his wrists. Abby paused for a moment before stepping forward and looking at the ring on his finger. “Who are you?” she asked, kneeling to look into his eyes. “Wait, don’t answer that. You’re Arno. De le Serre’s adopted son. What are you doing here?”   
Arno looked up at Abagail, and she could see some of the fear he tried to conceal. “De le Serre was supposed to meet with Reginald Birch today, but the man never showed. He sent people to investigate and found that Birch and another man were being held inside the Palace of Justice as prisoners.”   
Abagail recoiled in shock and felt Esmerelda’s hand on her arm to try and steady her. “When was this discovered?”   
“Two days ago. De le Serre had a hard time tracking you down, but Frollo may not have much trouble.”   
Abby nodded, turning away. “Go tell de le Serre that I’m safe for now. And I’ll figure out a plan.” 

*******  
It had been two weeks since word of Reginald’s capture had reached the Court of Miracles. Abagail hadn’t eaten or slept much in that time. Esmerelda was a constant support, slipping the Sage food to get her to eat something if anything. The Romani woman and the Sage had grown closer in those two weeks, talking about anything when not trying to figure out how to free the two men from the Palace.   
Abby had grown incredibly fond of the Romani woman and secretly wished that their time together never had to end. As she played with Djali, the woman’s pet seemed to grow closer to her as well.   
The two shared a quick first kiss one night as an accident, each breaking away quickly and parting ways. Their next kiss was shared in private, away from any prying eyes. It was easy to see that they were falling for each other, even if they tried to hide it.   
One night, they lay close together with Djali between them. Esmerelda turned to look at Abagail; she met her gaze evenly. “What are you thinking about?” the Sage asked her love and was met with a small frown.   
“Do you have a plan?” Esmerelda asked, and Abagail sighed, sitting up and reaching to pull Esmerelda into a sitting position with her.   
“I’m going to turn myself in-”   
“You can’t.”   
“I refuse to allow you to get hurt, and who knows what Frollo has done to my family in the two weeks it’s taken for me to fall in love with you and come up with this plan.”   
Esmerelda looked away, but Abagail gently brought her gaze back to her own. “I owe you my life,” Abagail told her quietly. “But this doesn’t mean we will be apart.”   
Esmerelda looked confused, and Abagail slipped off her ring., taking her lover’s hand.   
“Do you swear to uphold the principles of our order, and all that for which we love?”   
Esmerelda looked confused, but after a moment said, “I do.”   
“Do you swear never to share our secrets nor divulge in the true nature of our love?”   
“I do.”   
“And to do so, in sickness and separation, from now and to death, no matter what our love may cost?”   
“I do.”   
Abagail silently slipped the ring on the Romani woman’s ring finger then said, “Then I welcome you into my life, Esmerelda. I commit my life to you, and my soul to the Father of Understanding. And to all that will follow.”   
Esmerelda looked at Abagail and saw that she was close to tears. “I’ll stay by you,” Esmerelda promised, “but make sure you return to me.”   
“I will. Please keep yourself safe.” 

*******  
“Frollo!” Abagail yelled as she approached the Palace of Justice. “Come out, you son of a bitch! You want me. You’ve got me!”   
People around her paused in their daily lives and watched as the Palace doors opened to reveal the Minister and his men, two of whom went down the stairs and took Abagail’s arms.   
“I knew I would find you one day, Aita,” Frollo said, walking down the steps and taking the woman’s chin tightly in her hands. “Let’s see if we can drag you into the light, shall we?”   
Abagail pulled her chin away and looked around to see Esmerelda standing in the crowd, pleading for her to try to escape silently before Abagail was forced up the stairs and into the palace. 

*******  
It was hard to tell how much time had passed in the cell. There was no light, no way to see if it was day or night, morning or evening. Frollo had been the constant reminder of her captivity, trying to make her drink a blue liquid out of a wooden cup.   
A liquid that would force Aita to take over. She couldn’t drink the liquid.   
Abagail was bloody and bruised, her wrists chained to the wall on the far end of her cell, leaving her torso open to any attacks that Frollo’s man could do, which was seemingly a lot. She looked up one day (or was it nighttime?) several days after her imprisonment to see Frollo standing with the cup in his hand.   
“I know what you’re here to do, and I won’t do it!” Abagail said, weakly, not able to meet the man’s gaze with how tired she felt. It felt as though her very bones were heavy, and she knew the older man could see it.   
“I don’t need you to do anything, Aita,” Frollo said, looking over his shoulder at his man. His companion seemed to enjoy this more than Frollo did. “Hold her mouth open.”   
The man came forward quickly, grabbing Abagail’s jaw in his hand, and though she tried to fight him off, he managed to force her mouth open, giving time for Frollo to pour the drink in. “Force her to swallow it,” Frollo said, and the man pinched Abagail’s noise, covering her mouth as well. Abagail, faced with the prospect of choking to death or suffocating, was forced to swallow the concoction, going limp as the drug entered her system. She shuddered, her eyes closed as golden lines began to appear down her arms, making patterns on the skin. When her eyes opened, her eyes looked like melted gold, and her stance wasn’t like it had been before.   
This wasn’t Abagail. This was Aita.   
“It was nice to finally meet you, Aita, although I’m afraid you won’t be around for long.” Frollo looked at the man standing beside him. “Have the men prepare a stake. We have a witch to burn. And make sure Reginald and Mister Holden are there as well.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A past life, a stage, and could it be the beginning of the end for the Sage?

It was dark. 

The world seemed to float around her on a breeze, cold and stiff. Abagail forced her eyes to open and found herself falling. Falling into a darkness that was as thick as ink and cold as ice. 

When she was finally, mercifully, able to feel land under her back, the world changed into that of a light blue sky, with a sandy beach under her. There were dark clouds spread out on the horizon, seemingly being held off by an unknown barrier. The water that kissed the shoreline was calm and crystal clear. Besides the foliage on the beach and the land behind her, there were no other signs of life. 

She could feel her heart racing in her chest and forced herself to take a deep breath before sitting up and looking at the world around her. When she looked down at her body, she was wearing a baby blue dress, a cream color scarf wrapped around her waist. Her feet were bare, but the dress was long enough that it brushed against her ankles as she stood. Looking at her hands and arms, they were lined with gold, making complicated patterns on her skin. She was sure that the other parts of her body were also linked with the gold. 

“It happens to all Sages that come here,” a female’s voice said, and Abby turned to look at her. “Though, it’s been a while since I’ve seen another woman here.”   
The new woman wore a dress in a similar style to Abby’s, though hers was more regal looking with gems along the neckline and lace cuffs on long sleeves. Her hair was a dark brown, pulled into a complicated updo. She had pleasant looking features, and her eyes were walnut brown with a maternal light in them. On the top of her head rested a crown of gold that seemed to rise in several places with precious stones laid into it. Golden lines could also be seen on whatever skin was visible.  
“Where is ‘here’?” Abagail asked carefully. She wasn’t sure whether or not to bow to this woman who so clearly looked like royalty. She seemed familiar, though, as though she was another life, another part of Abagail personified. 

“It’s called the Nexus,” the woman answered. “We are brought here after death, or when Aita fully enters our consciousness. I don’t think you’ve died just yet.” the woman added reassuringly. 

“Just yet. Meaning that I might be about to.” 

The woman nodded, turning and gliding to the shoreline, looking out over the sea. “You arrived here only an hour ago,” she said. “But it’s hard to tell how much time has passed out in the world. It could have been hours or days…” 

“I need to go back,” Abagail said urgently. “I need to go back to protect the one I love. I can’t protect her here.” 

“If Aita is in your body, controlling it, then there may be a chance for you to return.” The woman said, looking at the horizon. “But we’ll have to hurry. The horizon is changing.”   
Abagail followed the woman's gaze to the horizon to see it glowing orange and red in places. “Fire? Why?” 

“I do not know,” the woman answered. “But follow, I know a place to take you back to your body.” 

**********

The sky was cloudy, though there was no rain. A stage had been constructed in the town square outside of Notre Dame. Made of wooden planks, it consisted of a stage being surrounded by straw and hay. A staircase off to one side provided a way for those on the stage to get to the stake. 

Notre Dame towered over the stage, casting an eerie presence over the stage, as though the church itself would be judging the condemned person.

A crowd had already formed and was being controlled by a line of armed men, each of them wearing some form of a Templar cross to mark them as one of the Order. The Order was about to put one of its own to death. 

A pavilion had been put together to another side of the crowd, with two chairs placed under its cover. In those two chairs sat two men, tied at the wrists to the armrests. Reginald and Jim looked at the crowd around them, trying to see if they could find the one person that might be able to save Abagail. 

Abagail, who, when Reginald had been allowed to see her, was not truly Abagail. She had stared ahead blankly, as though she was hiding in her mind. Once a bright blue and gold, her eyes were now just the color of melted gold coins. She remained deathly silent while Reginald and Frollo were there, the former asking her questions to try and get her to speak. 

“Her silence is proof of her guilt,” Frollo had said, leading Reginald away. 

“What is her crime?” Reginald hissed, pulling away from the other man’s guiding hand. “What has she been found guilty of?” 

“Witchcraft” was the only reply he had been given the night before, and it was the word now ringing in his head. 

Witchcraft? Abagail was no witch, even though she was the Sage. She had been born with memories of a time before humanity, but with no powers as far as he was aware.   
Next to him, Jim was attempting to loosen the ropes on his wrists. He moved slowly, pausing when he was looked at by a guard. “We have to save Abby, sir,” he said quietly through the corner of his mouth. 

Reginald nodded but didn’t reply. Jim saw the man freeze, staring at the stage and followed his gaze in time to see a limb Abagail being brought up by two guards. Close behind, an executioner wearing no shirt but black trousers and hood. On his bare chest, straps crossed into an X shape lay loose, just tight enough to not hang off of his body.   
Behind the hooded executioner, Frollor came up the steps slowly, as if to milk in the drama of the moment. He seemed to barely register the crowds' yells and pleas to, “Let her go! She’s done nothing wrong!” Instead, he looked towards the stake, where Abby stood, back pressed against the wood, held with ties at her ankles, waist, and neck.   
The moment had almost arrived for her to die.

*******

The sky had turned orange. 

Abagail and the regal woman were rushing down the beach, their footprints washing away as soon as they had come, leaving the beach undisturbed. 

“The sky,” Abby said. “It looks like fire.” 

The woman paused and looked up at the sky before continuing and gesturing for Abagail to follow once more. They went in comfortable silence for a few feet before Abagail spoke again. 

“I feel like I remember you from somewhere,” she said, and the woman smiled. 

“I should hope you. I was you, long ago.” 

“There’s no way you were me.” 

The woman looked at her for a long moment, not slowing her walk. “Do you remember what happened in 1587?” she asked, and Abagail looked away, thinking. 

“Beheaded…” Abagail muttered bitterly. 

“Over something I had no part in,” The woman told her. “I was a threat to my cousin, so she had me beheaded.” 

“Tell me your name?” 

“Mary, Queen of Scotland.” 

“Is that why you look like a Queen now? Will I look different than this when I die?” 

“Most likely,” Mary replied after a moment. “But let’s not make that day come just yet.” 

Soon, they arrived at a stone building. Its walls were covered in moss and flowers, which bloomed vibrant shades of red, yellow, blue, and purple. An open doorway revealed part of a wooden table, a chair, and another door. This one was made of wood, with an iron handle to open it with. Around it, and in the cracks of the wood, a bright white light leaked through. 

The sky above them had become temperamental. The orange shade was becoming deeper, mixing with red and black. 

“Go, hurry,” Mary said, placing a hand on Abagail’s shoulder and pushing her into the room. “Before you’re stuck here.” 

“Will I see you again?” Abagail asked desperately. 

“Yes, you will, now go!” 

Abagail turned to the door, pulling it open with all of her might, and jumped through, into the light. 

The door swung closed behind her, leaving Mary to hope that she would make it back in time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bonfire, a "mysterious" figure, and Esmerelda helping Reginald and Jim

Voices. That was the first thing Abagail heard when she arrived back into her body. They were raised in angry yells and pleas, saying that she hadn’t done anything wrong. She had a split second moment to wonder what they meant before she felt the brush of straw at her calves and ankles. There was something hard behind her, and her hands, arms, and legs felt sore. She tried to move but felt as though she was trapped against the hard object behind her.   
Then, Frollo’s voice broke out above the noise of those calling for her release. “This evil witch has put every innocent soul in this city in terrible danger!” the judge cried, and there was a swelling in the protests.   
Terrible danger? Abagail thought quickly. What had she done to put the souls of Paris in terrible danger?   
“She has been hereby sentenced to death,” the old man continued and closed the scroll he had been reading from, exchanging it for a lit torch.   
Abagail opened her eyes in time to see Frollo approach her with the torch, a sick look of pleasure on his face. She saw the confusion pass over his features for a moment before it was gone, leaving the sick look in its place.   
She turned her face away from the heat of the flame coming close to her, feeling her stomach clench in fear.   
“This will hurt Reginald more than it hurts you,” Frollo told her softly. “Knowing that he couldn’t save you from death…”   
Abagail turned her face back to his, making eye contact with him. If she was going to die, she was going to die, staring at the person who had caused her death.   
**********  
Hidden in the crowd, Esmerelda had watched the guards drag Abagail to the stake. On her hand, the Templar ring she had been given, gleaming softly in the torchlight.   
Her heart was in her throat, and she could hardly breathe as Frollo began his speech. She shifted her gaze away from the stage and to the pavilion, taking notice of the two men seated there. One of them looked angry, the other concerned.   
The concerned one seemed to meet her gaze from across the crowd, and she recognized the man from when she had taken Abby to the Court of Miracles. Her eyes widened slightly, and then, looking for a way to slip through the crowd. Silently and swiftly, she edged her way through the crowd to the covered back of the pavilion. Swallowing any fear she had, she slipped under the cover and behind the straight-backed chairs. Slipping a blade out from the hidden sheath on her thigh, she silently moved to the concerned man’s side and deftly cut through the rope holding his wrists down. The man stared at the guards but glanced down at the woman as she worked, leaving his hands on the armrests to appear that he was still tied to the chair.   
Esmerelda moved to the other man and repeated the process, and slipped back into the darkness, watching as the two men moved quickly to subdue the guards without attracting attention to themselves. They put the unconscious men into the chairs and then joined Esmerelda in the darkness. They could see the stake, where Frollo seemed to be staring in at Abagail, his face hard.   
“Why are you helping us?”  
“That’s not important right now. What’s important is making sure Abagail is safe.” 

The angry-looking man tensed but didn’t let what he was thinking spill from his mouth. 

“You’re right,” he said after a moment. “But how do we do that?” 

The concerned man’s face brightened for a moment, and he looked at the other two. “I have an idea…” he said and leaned in closer. 

*********

Abby watched, almost hopelessly, as the flame drew closer and closer to the pile of straw. She could feel that some of them were damp, which would make them hard to burn, causing her to suffer more. 

It was almost as though Frollo was enjoying this. Reveling in the fact that Reginald would be unable to come to her aide before the fire consumed her. If the fire consumed her. There was a shout from the other side of the crowd, and the flame paused near her waist level. Frollo turned towards the sound and then made a gesture for a group of guards to investigate. Another noise, this one sounding like a lone male voice sticking out over the crowd, and another group of guards gone to investigate. 

“Show yourself!” Frollo yelled into the crowd, only to be met with utter silence. The once loud, rowdy crowd had gone dead silent, with only the sounds of moving bodies, the crackle of the torch in Frollo’s hand, and the man’s labored breathing could be heard. “Show yourself, now, before she goes into flames!” 

*********

Reginald heard the threat from where he hid in the crowd and forced himself to remain still and silent. 

Guards, their hands on their swords, had gone to the pavilion to check on their comrades, and then reported back, “The prisoners aren’t here!” 

Reginald saw Frollo swing violently around to Abagail, who had a triumphant smile on her face, despite the torch that was too close to her for Reginald’s comfort. She and Frollo stared intensely at one another, one angry, one defiant before Frollo looked to the crowd again. 

“That is enough!” he yelled and placed the torch on the straw near the bottom of the pile. It started to smoke and then burn as they caught fire.

Abagail finally allows her fear to show as she looked into Frollo as the flames started to grow. She coughed, feeling the smoke reach into her lungs through every breath like small fingers. She was choking, could feel her throat tighten. There were moments when it felt like she would float above her body, watching herself burn, and then be shoved back into the pain. 

She coughed weakly, trying to force herself to stay awake, to stay alive, watching someone land on the stage by Frollo, pushing him away. The figure went behind her, and she felt herself fall into the stranger’s arms before the world went black.


End file.
